The poems of George Daniel ... From the original mss. in the British Museum: Hitherto unprinted. Edited, with introduction, notes, and illustrations, portrait, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart: In four volumes |
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XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
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XLIV. |
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XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
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XL. |
XLI. | Chap. xli. |
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Chap. xli. The poems of George Daniel | ||
XLI. Chap. xli.
Where an Aboundance is, where Man doth rest
Pleas'd in his Soule wth what he is Possest,
Where all felicitie the Earth can boast
Courts a poore frailtie, that he stands almost
The World's Sole Minion, how can he resigne
The sweet fruition & Entertaine
Death's fatall Summons? Oh, with what a hart
Shall he receive it? How can these long freinds part
In Patience? Death, or th' vnwelcome word
That Death may come, by rich Men, is abhorr'd.
Pleas'd in his Soule wth what he is Possest,
Where all felicitie the Earth can boast
Courts a poore frailtie, that he stands almost
The World's Sole Minion, how can he resigne
The sweet fruition & Entertaine
Death's fatall Summons? Oh, with what a hart
Shall he receive it? How can these long freinds part
In Patience? Death, or th' vnwelcome word
That Death may come, by rich Men, is abhorr'd.
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But where a Soule lyes groninge, in the Sad
Whirlepoole of Memorie, to thinke he had
Once an Estate of Plentie, now to lye
Starv'd in his wants, opprest in Miserie.
Whirlepoole of Memorie, to thinke he had
Once an Estate of Plentie, now to lye
Starv'd in his wants, opprest in Miserie.
Or to the Man (who whilome was a Man
But now a Child againe, or if less can
Be then a Child,) worne with the Iron wheele
Of a Sad Age, whose feeble Members feele
Perpetuall Aches, bed-rid in his Sence;
Imperfect meerly, and 's Intelligence
Lost or forgotten; when a Curséd Age
Brings him to dotage, Passion, Anger, Rage.
But now a Child againe, or if less can
Be then a Child,) worne with the Iron wheele
Of a Sad Age, whose feeble Members feele
Perpetuall Aches, bed-rid in his Sence;
Imperfect meerly, and 's Intelligence
Lost or forgotten; when a Curséd Age
Brings him to dotage, Passion, Anger, Rage.
Or where a Soule lies tugging in th' vnsure
Quicksprings of Conscience, & has noe more power
To wrastle out; impatient leaves, almost
Desperate, in Doubts for ever to be lost;
Where every obiect is a fresh occasion
Of Miserie; where can be noe Evasion,
There, Death is sweet; oh happines beyond
The low Conceptions of a vulgar Mind!
Quicksprings of Conscience, & has noe more power
To wrastle out; impatient leaves, almost
Desperate, in Doubts for ever to be lost;
Where every obiect is a fresh occasion
Of Miserie; where can be noe Evasion,
There, Death is sweet; oh happines beyond
The low Conceptions of a vulgar Mind!
Be not afraid of Death, though it may Seeme
To thy thoughts terrible; remember them
Who went before, & know, as many shall
Come after thee; thus God ordaines to All;
Death once must come; & why should you oppose
The pleasure of the highest? He best knowes
Who gave, to take; What if the vncertaine Date
Of Mortalls, in ten years, be Terminate?
What if a hundred, or a Thousand Shall
Summe vp thy Age if thou at last shalt fall?
And once thou must; ffrom Death is noe repreive;
Man may live long, but cannot ever live.
To thy thoughts terrible; remember them
Who went before, & know, as many shall
Come after thee; thus God ordaines to All;
Death once must come; & why should you oppose
The pleasure of the highest? He best knowes
Who gave, to take; What if the vncertaine Date
Of Mortalls, in ten years, be Terminate?
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Summe vp thy Age if thou at last shalt fall?
And once thou must; ffrom Death is noe repreive;
Man may live long, but cannot ever live.
Heare mee, againe, my Children; let the Dresse
Of Wisedome cloth ye words of Wisedome, Peace:
Wisedome concealéd in a private breast,
Or treasure hourded in an vnknowne Chest,
What good in Either? Silence better fitts
Illiterate Fooles then firme & solid Witts;
Therfore attend my Words, some time 't may be
A preiudice to faile in Modestie;
It is not ever comely; a bold face,
To some things, stands ye Ornament & Grace.
Of Wisedome cloth ye words of Wisedome, Peace:
Wisedome concealéd in a private breast,
Or treasure hourded in an vnknowne Chest,
What good in Either? Silence better fitts
Illiterate Fooles then firme & solid Witts;
Therfore attend my Words, some time 't may be
A preiudice to faile in Modestie;
It is not ever comely; a bold face,
To some things, stands ye Ornament & Grace.
Here be asham'd, & let thy blushes rise
From a lanch't heart, of thy vnchastities
Before thy Parents, & before thy Prince;
Of Lies to Magistrates; of an offence
Of Sin, before the People; of Deceit
To a Companion or Intimate;
Of Theft before thy Neighbours, & before
God & his Truth, the Word which he hath swore;
Of Rudenes, Incivilitye, of Pride;
To vnloose the Chayne humanitie hath tyed
In Equall obligation, ffreind to ffreind;
To aske, to borrow, to restore, to lend;
Blush to be Silent, in the Cōmon Iest
Of civill salutation; or to feast
Lascivious Eyes with Sin; to see by Chance
A needie Kinsman, & feigne Ignorance;
To oppresse the poore Widdowes, or to deprive
From Orphans; to seduce another's wife;
To tempt a virgin, or Approach the Bed
Of Innocence, in a poore Maidenhead;
To scorne thy ffreinds, to boast thy Courtesies,
To Carry Newes, or reveale Secrecies;
These thinges are Shamefull; shun these crooked waies,
And to the World thou shalt survive with praise.
From a lanch't heart, of thy vnchastities
Before thy Parents, & before thy Prince;
Of Lies to Magistrates; of an offence
Of Sin, before the People; of Deceit
To a Companion or Intimate;
Of Theft before thy Neighbours, & before
God & his Truth, the Word which he hath swore;
Of Rudenes, Incivilitye, of Pride;
To vnloose the Chayne humanitie hath tyed
In Equall obligation, ffreind to ffreind;
To aske, to borrow, to restore, to lend;
Blush to be Silent, in the Cōmon Iest
Of civill salutation; or to feast
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A needie Kinsman, & feigne Ignorance;
To oppresse the poore Widdowes, or to deprive
From Orphans; to seduce another's wife;
To tempt a virgin, or Approach the Bed
Of Innocence, in a poore Maidenhead;
To scorne thy ffreinds, to boast thy Courtesies,
To Carry Newes, or reveale Secrecies;
These thinges are Shamefull; shun these crooked waies,
And to the World thou shalt survive with praise.
Chap. xli. The poems of George Daniel | ||